#if you've read blood against bone like fire and stone

[leo-regulus]

I can actually sort of add my own experience to this, with the caveat that I pay very little attention to my AO3 stats and honestly only ever throw stuff up there when it's that or share a gdoc with several people.

Most of my fic is in three fandoms - Saint Seiya, an 80s anime with a not-big but pretty dedicated fandom; 3rd Life SMP, a Minecraft youtube series that was insanely popular and rewrote most of how Minecraft youtuber fandom acted; and Ace Attorney, a video game series from 2006 that sometimes does show up in con artist alleys still.

Only one of my StS works has over fifteen kudos, and that's the one with 10k hits and 10 chapters. It has that many exclusively because I was (and still am) friends with a very popular StS artist on twitter who drew me some fanart and linked to my fic. The fic itself focuses on characters that don't actually have any characterization canonically, and is pretty genfic.

My AA fic, even though it's a pretty active fandom, have maybe 100 hits and three kudos between the lot of it. This is because I wrote an AU that I proceeded to Not Bother Explaining, entirely for myself and my fiance.

However, my 3rd Life fic I still get emails one a day letting me know someone's given it a kudos, and there's only three fics I wrote for that.

Best guess on why my 3L fic is still hanging in there, despite the fandom having moved on to the next season of the Life series? (I think we're up to six seasons now.) Because I got in pretty early in a fandom mostly full of teenagers and slammed down the "I'm a reasonably experienced fic writer, here's the most popular ship with everyone's favourite codependent trope, and I have a good amount of experience writing smut that's enjoyable to read."

I'm actually pretty sure I was one of the first to slam down explicit fic for 3L, let alone the most popular ship of the time. Unsurprisingly, that's what people were really happy about in the comments.

This post checks out to my experience. You want the popularity, just get in early, write the big ships, write mostly palatable stuff and throw in one or two distinct* qualities to your writing style. (*Being the only smut writer, pioneering a specific meta theory that people really like, etc etc.) Keeps tags and summaries reasonably small, keep to popular tropes, don't write too long or too short.

Then I guess, when you've got a bunch of dedicated readers, hit 'em with the 100k rarepair AU with just enough bait to lock them in with you and then they have no choice but to keep loving you through your bullshit. (This line is tongue-in-cheek.)

I personally don't advise writing fic to try and be popular. It's more fun to just write whatever you want and not check the numbers. But if you want to anyway, yeah, this checks out.

i also have a whole post i could write about how kudos on ao3 correspond to marketability rather than quality, exactly how the actual publishing industry works, but. the question is… do i have the energy

[meownotgood]

let us live, if we must die. / chapter two: of blood and fire

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince. 

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pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 6.6k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, tending to aki's wounds, but things don't all go to plan. warning: a few small mentions of blood / wounds / a knife

notes: we're in aki's perspective this time! reader & aki's relationship is off to an interesting start... hope you enjoy this one hehe. next chapter will be a bit longer and include multiple scenes!

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

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Aki awakes to the sound of a crackling fireplace. 

He blinks, his eyes still tired. His blurry vision slowly begins to come back into focus. When it does, he is met with an unfamiliar ceiling in a room he doesn't recognize. Candlelit shadows dance above him. The cottage, right. Relief washes over his mind, his body, and his weary muscles, the sensation as strong and comforting as the warmth from the nearby fire. The forest was cold. Rain soaked into his bare skin, until every droplet felt like ice in his bones, bitterness in his boiling blood. But now, he is warm. Safe, at last. 

He remembers first spotting the cottage in between dense trees and pouring rain. Every step grew harder and harder to take, his legs becoming heavier by the second. By the time he reached the doorstep, he knew he was at the end of his rope. Now, his fate was no longer in his own hands. He recalls knocking on the door, seeing it open, falling, fading — 

Yeah, he needs to apologize for that. He has a lot he probably needs to say to you, actually. 

Aki listens to the fire flicker and fizzle, while he continues to idly watch the ceiling's pirouetting shadows through heavy eyelids. He's alive. His heart pounds forcefully against the caged walls of his chest, as if reminding him, taunting him. Attempting to recall the moments before he lost consciousness, his thoughts can't help but wander back to you. 

You were moonlit, the serene glow of the stars shining in your eyes and your panicked expression. Aki felt his throat go dry. His hands shook. His breath took on a tender hitch, despite the pain still splintering through him. He plays that moment over and over again in his mind, and Gods, he knows he's already messed everything up. He probably scared you. No, he definitely startled you. Arriving at a stranger's door all blood-soaked and weary, before proceeding to pass out on them doesn't make for the most positive of introductions. 

Of course, all things considered, getting off on the wrong foot with you was perhaps inevitable. He can only wonder how long it might take now, to try and get the two of you on the right foot. 

With a steady breath in, and a moment to prepare, Aki pushes himself up. Instantly, he winces, grunting in pain. The still-fresh wound on his side sends pain tearing through him like sharp, icy daggers. A heavy ache settles over his spine, then his limbs. 

He glances around; you have him resting next to a stone fireplace, on what seems to be a makeshift wooden cot. His shirt is laid out, drying by the fire. You've washed the blood from it, for the most part. When he examines himself, he sees his torso wrapped in cloth, torn and tied together to make bandages, fabric closest to his side stained a dull, dried red. 

"Don't move." 

The sound of your voice gets him to glance in your direction. With your back turned towards him, you're standing at the kitchen counter. You are preparing something, your knife chopping smoothly, echoing a firm noise each time it hits the cutting board. Aki huffs the start of a rebuttal, but you don't let him get very far. 

"I'm fine, I-"

"You risk tearing your stitches if you move," You scold, tone stern, your movements halting. Aki feels the anticipation heighten in his veins, the room briefly going silent, save for a persistent echo of rain hitting the roof. 

You glance over your shoulder to look at him, and proceed to shoot him a particularly harsh glare. "So please, lay back down." 

The intricate features of your face are just as captivating as Aki remembers. 

Slowly, without taking his eyes off you, he leans back, the cot creaking once he's settled. You breathe an annoyed-sounding sigh before returning to your work. A drizzle hums outside steadily, softer than the earlier downpour. The storm is passing, thankfully. 

Your stone pestle knocks and grinds against a wooden bowl. The fireplace crackles, calm flames flooding Aki's body with a comforting sense of heat. It casts him in gentle light, lambent sparks reflecting off his eyes, and in the smooth metal of his earrings. 

Once you've finished grinding the herbs, you unscrew the cap of a nearby flask, and you pour a generous amount of water into the bowl. Each scrap of vegetation dissolves almost immediately, leaving behind a thin mixture, colored in shades of green and muddy purple. You have the bowl held in both hands when you finally walk over to him, careful not to let anything spill. 

You kneel down beside the cot, eyeing him nervously. Your lips press together to form a taut line. Awkward seconds pass in droves, before you manage to say something at last. 

"Tilt your head up," You're instructing. You have the cadence of someone who isn't used to their own voice leaving their lungs, Aki notes. When he does so, propping himself up a bit, your free hand hesitantly shifts to rest underneath his head for support. He swears he can feel your uneasiness. 

"Drink this." 

You've let his hair down, and the long, messy strands brush your palm; they lightly tickle the back of his neck, and fall to frame his pointed ears. Orange light caresses him, flickering over old scars and freckled skin. Aki breathes deeply, his gaze locked with yours. You're so close. Close enough to make him feel as though the stars themselves are burning in his heart. 

There's fear in your eyes. The sort of fear he's come to recognize on others, countless times before. The same fear that would've taken over him when he was much younger. But there's gentleness, as well. A genuine concern, as you watch the choppy rise and fall of his chest from the corner of your eye. 

He owes you everything, and more than that, still. If it wasn't for you, he surely would have died out there. When he was running, rain pelting his back while he sprinted as fast as his weak legs could take him — fruitless, for the devils were already following his blood trail — he thought he was definitely going to. 

What a terribly awful, terribly stupid death that would be. Aki always imagined his end would come at the clawed hands of a devil. It was the fate he accepted, when he swore to hunt them. With no mercy, they will end him someday, just as they've taken his family, and each of his peers. Yet, to die there, from such a foolish mistake, to perish because he merely fumbled with his weapon when he should have been focused — In whatever afterlife he stumbled into, kind or cruel, he would never have forgiven himself. 

His mind has been wandering elsewhere quite often, as of late. From now on, he needs his focus maintained if he wants to survive. Between his troubles, his training, and his responsibilities, it's like his brain hasn't rested in weeks. And then there's this damned forest, the devils, and you. Something tells him he won't be finding his composure any time soon. 

Aki's nose wrinkles up on instinct when you bring the bowl to his lips. You tut, shaking your head. 

"It smells bad, I know," You're scoffing, "But it isn't going to taste any better. Drink it all, it'll help." 

With his eyes screwed shut, you begin to tilt the bowl back, and he forces himself to down the entirety of the mixture. It sticks to his throat, thick and unbelievably bitter; it makes him cough once he tries to breathe. He swallows dryly, allowing the taste to gradually dull. Satisfied, you rise to your feet. Empty bowl in hand, you're finally heading back towards the kitchen. 

"Demons got you good," You hum, sweeping stray scraps of herbs from the counter into your palm. Glass jars line the back edge of the counter, and you pop the lid on one, carefully brushing the corresponding traces inside. "You'll heal though, in time. Shouldn't be left with another scar, unless you keep messing with your stitches." 

Aki leans back into the cot, his messy hair fanned out around him. He runs his fingers over his torso, feeling the outline of the ragged bandages. They're wrapped tightly to protect the wound on his side. The gash underneath stings slightly when he touches it, still. 

"Thank you," He murmurs, turning his head to glance at you. His voice is low, breathy. Honest. "If you hadn't brought me in, I think I would have bled to death." 

"You definitely would have," You grumble under your breath, a bit louder than intended. You exhale a small tsk, your nails rhythmically tapping against the side of the glass jar. "You're heavy, very heavy. I had to practically drag you inside. And you talk in your sleep, too." 

Aki snorts, breathing something of a dry laugh. He props his head up, resting it on top of his arm. "What was I talking about?" 

Briefly, you hesitate. "How am I supposed to know? It was gibberish." You set the jar back into place, and carefully straighten the entire assortment. "At least I knew you were sleeping and not- you know. Dead." 

At last, you're starting to sound sure of yourself. He hardly minds your harshness; he's the one who nearly barged in, he certainly deserves to be met with a hint of vitriol. Aki finds your sudden ray of confidence to be pleasant, in fact, like standing in the shimmer of a rising sun. Perhaps he can make amends with you after all. 

"I was lucky," Aki starts. "I wasn't expecting to find anyone all the way out here. You saved my life. I don't plan on forgetting that." 

Busying yourself with cleaning your kitchen knife, you pour water onto a towel before using it to hastily polish the blade. 

"Where are you from?" You ask him, changing the subject entirely. "The city?"

He shrugs. "I suppose you could call it that." 

"The city's awfully far from here." 

"It is," Aki responds calmly. He distracts himself by watching you, his gaze flickering over your form: bathed in shadow, and touched by the slightest lamp glow. Your back is facing him again, and your shoulders are tense, wound up. Your hooded cloak has holes here and there, with the bottom edge of your cape distinctly ragged from tear marks. The deep blue color of the cape's fabric matches the makeshift bandages around his torso. 

"But you're from there," He continues, eyes narrowed, "Aren't you?" 

You pause. Just barely, he hears you take a shuddery, uncertain breath. "I've never been." 

Aki concentrates on the idle drum of raindrops — tapping against the roof, the windows, and the ground outside. Nourishing each blossoming tree, and every overgrown blade of grass. The sound is low, yet calming. 

"That's a shame," He says. "The weather in the kingdom has been so much nicer." 

Suddenly, in one smooth, quick movement, you're turning around. You're dropping the towel and the knife down on the counter with a faint clatter, and you're twisting to face him head on. Your cold glance is immediately interrogating him, flickering up, and then back down. 

"Has? So you've been there recently?" You snap, the bridge of your nose forming a disgruntled knot. Your arms cross tightly over your chest. "Thought you were an adventurer. The kind that doesn't like to stay in one place, the kind that goes out searching for treasure and jewels and monsters- that sort of thing. Why don't you explain what you were doing in the kingdom, then?" 

Aki frowns. "I was born there, if you must know." 

"Yeah, I must," You counter sharply, a brow raised. "And that still doesn't answer my question." 

Aki's teeth grit slightly when he sits up, a hint of stinging pain promptly sparking in his side. Firelight frames his face in amber hues and pockets of shadow — his expression is unreadable, but soft. Desperate, almost. If you were planning on telling him he should lay back down, the annoyed twitch in your brows is the most you let on. 

"I'm an adventurer, just not the kind you're thinking of. I'm… I'm a devil hunter. That's what the people in the kingdom call it," He explains; the ache spreading through his body leaves him a tad out of breath, and his next words are spoken between a subtle wince. "I'll venture far from the kingdom to kill them, but I also take care of anything lurking too close to the city's outskirts. I came here to practice. The devils in this forest were reported to be weaker. At least, compared to the hunts I usually go after." 

"Really?" You roll your eyes, huffing in exasperation while your arms go loose at your sides. "And I'm supposed to believe you came here to fight demons, without a weapon on you?" 

"Devils, you mean." 

"Whatever you call them." 

Aki presses a palm against his side, and matches your stern gaze with a composed one. "I had a sword. The devils disarmed me, and when they did, they all but destroyed it. I left my things behind when I ran, to make it easier to escape. Hence why I showed up empty-handed." 

You're quiet as you think, eyes glancing between him and his torso. "You're awfully terrible at coming up with excuses. Either you're a trained demon hunter, or you're an idiot who nearly lost his life to a bunch of demon-sprat. So, which is it?" 

"Devils are ruthless," He explains hastily, "They can easily overwhelm their target if they attack in numbers, and I know you're aware of that, you must be. The storm- I think it was causing them to flock together. I'm telling the truth, there's no need for this. You don't have to keep trying to intimidate me." 

"Shut up," You mutter through a scowl. Your hands have clenched into tight fists. Your brows are furrowed, and your jaw is locked tight. "You already deceived me once. I'm not going to sit idly while you do it again." 

"I'm not lying. If you would just listen, please just calm down and-" 

Quickly, without tearing your fierce gaze from his, you're reaching behind you to snatch the kitchen knife. You point the sparkling, sharpened end right at him. Thunder booms, and the sky alights with sparks that fleetingly bathe the room in a blinding flash. Aki goes quiet, his heart in his throat. In the darkening afterimage, he finally sees the whole of you — A raging flame, a thorned heart. The fire in your eyes is near engulfing. Your fear runs far deeper than he ever could've known. 

He watches, as your arm trembles just barely, unease concealed behind a struggling steadfastness. You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip. Your knuckles protrude from your hand, your grip on the leather hilt rigid and unacquainted. 

Aki lets go of a long, deep breath. "Put that down." 

"Give me one good reason, then." Your gaze is sharp, honed enough to cut through him all on its own. "Give me one reason why I should believe any word that comes from your filthy mouth." 

Allowing his palm to slip from his torso, he carefully puts both hands up. It seems to do little to put you at ease. 

"The knife," Aki murmurs, his gaze darting to you, then to your unsteady hand. "You don't know how to use it." 

"Would you like to put that statement to the test?" 

Aki tenses. "Devil hunter sounds far more intimidating than adventurer. I was trying not to scare you, that's all there is to it." 

"Liar," You chide, "Serpent." 

"I'll show you, if you'll let me." He speaks in a level tone, attempting to stay collected. His voice comes out quieter, his words are slow and deliberate, and he remains as still as he can possibly manage. Regardless, his chest gently rises and falls, falling in line with the relentless pound of his heart inside. Low light dances across his bare skin and faded scars. 

"Once the storm clears," Aki continues, "I'll head back out, and I'll retrace my steps to find everything I dropped in the woods. You can come with me. Hold a knife to my throat the whole time, if you must. I'll lead you right to where the devils attacked me. My sword will be there, and my bag. Devils like to snatch whatever shiny gold pieces they can get their hands on, but if there's any gold left in my bag when we find it, it's yours. How does that sound?" 

A conflicted expression dawns on your face — your brows knotted, eyes dark, lips pressed together. You stay focused on him, not yet answering. You're refusing to look away, with stress present in your form, stiff like a statue. Aki's chest aches, from something other than the wound's persistent pain. 

"I'm sorry," He apologizes, mumbling earnestly, his voice soft. "I shouldn't have- I'm not dangerous. I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm just-" 

"Don't." Your next breath trembles, it is shaky, weak. The knife's silver point, aimed towards his chest, glitters with his own reflection: warm and fire-lit. "Don't make promises you can't keep." 

Through your frail gaze, locked with his, Aki can taste the bitterness on your tongue. You remind him of the wolf, and the deer. The spark to ignite the flame, and the pyre, woefully made to be burned upon. You are shrinking up, your hand shaking ever-so slightly — and he can't help but feel as though he has just taken one step forward, and a thousand steps back. 

He should feel frightened. Anyone else in his shoes would be. Truthfully, he doesn't think you'd hurt him; it's this keen intuition he's held onto, ever since he first wound up at your doorstep. And although he knew it was foolish of him to push his luck, to underestimate you, when you helped him, when you saved him, he realized he was always right. 

Just like when he found himself deep in those devil-filled woods, he's come face to face with something — someone — who he's sure could destroy him. Everything he's ever known is telling him you could do so quickly, fiercely, in a tempest of crimson blood and vivid ash. He'd be lucky if he managed to take one final breath, before the heavens came down to greet him. Or, perhaps, you'll opt to destroy him slowly. Softly, waves of built-up hopes and intentions building until they're complete, deep enough to drown him in a sea he could never escape from, because he's never quite learned how to swim. 

Fortunately, Aki isn't frightened by fate. Nor has he ever been scared by the things he really ought to be scared of. 

Silence stretches on, and so too does the hum of the rain. All at once, you break it; Aki glances at you with a little less apprehension as you turn away, clumsily tossing the knife back onto the counter. You sigh listlessly, and you rest your elbows on the surface, leaning against it. 

"This is pointless," You scoff, seeming defeated. "We're never going to get anywhere." 

Aki slowly drops his hands into his lap. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. He almost speaks a handful of times, before finally settling on something to say. 

"I've- I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" Glancing down, he doesn't meet your eyes. "For what it's worth, I am grateful for everything you've done for me. I know this is my fault. I won't take advantage of your kindness or your hospitality. It wouldn't be right. Come morning, I'll leave as soon as I can." 

"No, you can't," You're suddenly arguing, turning around to face him. As he expected, your words sound sharp as ever, but your gaze on his is different, somehow. "You need to rest, for at least a few more days. Otherwise, your wound might leave lasting damage. You'll have to give up your whole demon hunting thing for good." 

"I'll be fine." Aki stretches, bringing his arms over his head, then rolling his shoulders back. He rests his palm back on his side, and he uses his free hand to push his bangs from his eyes. "I've been through worse. Besides, I think whatever you gave me is working already." 

You roll your eyes. "It's just numbing you, you fool. Please, didn't I already tell you to lay back down?" 

Aki tries not to let too much guilt show on his face. With a hand on your hip, you glare at him expectantly, until he's slowly settling back into the cot. Once he's fully lying down, you take it as your cue to snatch the flask and towel from the counter behind you; the knife is distinctly pushed away, out of your reach, and out of the realm of worry. You make your way over, kneeling down next to him. After quickly unscrewing the cap, you reach out to offer him the flask. 

"Here," You hum. You gently shake it, making the liquid inside slosh back and forth. "It's just water. Prop yourself up a bit, so you don't choke." 

Hesitant at first, Aki props up slightly on his elbow. He takes the flask from you, careful not to let your fingers brush. He only has a few small swigs, but it's plenty refreshing. It immediately relieves the dryness in his throat, and chases away the last few bitter hints of medicine. 

Once he hands the flask back to you, you're pausing, taking a moment to get a clear look at him. You focus on his face, his ruffled hair. His pointed ears, decorated with sparkling earrings. He can't help but feel his chest tighten, your gaze locking onto his. You hold his stare for merely a second or two, but your eyes; they transfix him, like they're a sanctum he should be praying to. 

Then, you're looking down, and Aki watches while you silently inspect his torso. Idly, he wonders what you might've seen to make your brows furrow, and to cause your lips to form the slightest pout. 

"You were angry enough to hold a knife to me mere moments ago," Aki murmurs, before breathing a short, light-hearted sigh. Your gaze meets his own once more, your brow raised in curiosity. "And now, you're asking me to stay." 

"Yeah, I am. Would you prefer I toss you out?" You proceed to pour a generous amount of water onto the towel. You set the flask aside, and then, you reach up, bringing the towel to his nape. "Hold still."

Aki tilts his head to the side, the water cool and damp when it touches his skin. "Not really," He answers; you dab the towel onto a small, fresh scrape just above his collarbone, and you wipe off the traces of dirt and dried blood. "Unless you think that'd be best." 

You lean over him a little, giving a quick once-over to his adjacent side and shoulder. "Your legs, let me see them." 

Aki shoves the thin blanket you'd covered him with aside. The moment it's gone, you're rolling up the legs of his trousers. You clumsily push them up to his knees, until he can feel the warmth of the fire, lapping at his bare skin. 

Both legs have a few sets of scrapes, but his knees are the worst offense. They're bruised and raw from falling, firstly after those stray devils had managed to topple him. He recalls rushing through the forest, hearing their howls from behind him as they gathered in numbers. Vision growing dizzy, he tripped over overgrown roots and rocks obscured by the darkness, just to force himself to his feet over and over again. The sight clearly displeases you, getting you to breathe an annoyed tch, and you press your damp towel to the knee closest to you. It stings, slightly. 

"I wasn't going to hurt you, just so you know," You huff, focusing on your work. "My mind was made up from the moment I brought you in. There would be no sense in going back on that now." 

"I know. But I wouldn't have blamed you," Aki remarks. "You have good reasons not to trust me." 

Those words get you to freeze, briefly. Aki eyes you, calm and straight-faced. Diligently, you apply water to a new corner of the towel, and you reach over to clean the scrapes on his other leg. 

"You're to stay right here for the next few days, and not move. Got it?" You instruct; you lean back, and he nods, pulling the legs of his pants back into place. In spite of your assuredness, you seem to falter, staring down at your hands and pondering to yourself. As if, while you think, you've momentarily forgotten he's even here. Each breath, once, and then another, you take on edge. He almost asks if you're alright — before abruptly, you return to busying yourself. 

Your towel is discarded onto the floor, as you murmur, "Sit up. Slowly, please." 

Aki pushes up all the way, straightening his back. You shift until you're able to reach his side. Your touch is gentle, and your fingertips begin to softly evaluate the bandages around his waist. 

When he fails to hold back a wince, you ask calmly, "Does the wound still hurt?" 

"A little," Aki manages. He keeps most of his weight rested on his arms, his palms pressed flat to either side of the cot. "The pain is dull, though. It isn't as strong as it was before." 

Your touch is feather-light and foreign. He isn't used to being fretted over like this; his shoulders and the back of his neck feel hot, and he can feel the delicate brush of your fingers faintly, even through the fabric. The weak ghost of your touch on his sensitive skin is enough to make his spine tingle. 

"You've got those herbs to thank for that," You remark, pulling away. "Once you're rested and healed, and only then, you'll be free to leave. I'm not sending you back out there just to be demon food. Not after I've used a month's worth of medicine on you." 

There's a small beat of silence, as you search for the cap you'd set aside, carefully screwing it back on the flask. You rise to your feet. You neatly spread the damp towel out by the side of the fireplace, next to Aki's drying shirt, like it's a task you've performed a thousand times before. He grinds his teeth together — an action you don't notice — but inevitably, he isn't able to stop himself from speaking. 

"If it's alright," He starts, waiting until you've turned back towards him to continue. "Could I ask you something?" 

Your arms cross. "Possibly." 

"Why did you help me?" Aki swallows, and he feels his jaw start to grow tense. His gaze wavers, shifting between you and his lap. "You could've turned me away, thrown me out, swore at me- You could've done anything, besides what you did. I hardly understand it." 

Expression softening, you laugh — You actually laugh, lips upturned, the corners of your eyes crinkled, and Aki fights against his own heart as it threatens to burst from his chest. 

"I wasn't aware I needed a reason," You retort, shrugging. 

"You don't need one. I was just wondering if there was one." 

"If you must know," You mumble; mocking him, he thinks, as you put on some horrible, deep impression that he can only assume is meant to be his own voice. You clear your throat after that, glancing away, quieting. You hold your own arm, and you rub it in a nervous sort of motion. "I wanted to, I suppose. End of story." 

"You- You wanted to?" 

"Of course," You're answering dryly, "What, are you saying you don't believe me? I can't save some stupid lying adventurer out of the goodness of my own heart?" 

"No, I believe you." He answers you calmly, smoothly. "That's a fine reason." 

"Is it?" You hesitate, gaze tearing away from his own to focus on the ground. Aki watches you take in a subtle, steady breath. "Sorry, I didn't expect- I'm not sure how I should explain it. I think I…" Suddenly, you sigh, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. "I guess I've seen too much death to just… let you die." 

I've seen too much death to let you die. 

Oh. Aki stalls, the sound of his own heartbeat and the echo of steady raindrops working in tandem to play a tune in his ears. Your previous lightheartedness dissolves with the room's building silence, and with those words. They remind him of himself. You remind him of himself — Scared and alone, a herald of death, despite all your efforts to wash its stench from your skin. And Aki, he has been followed by so, so much death. 

It's impossible to know exactly what you're burdened with, but he knows what that sort of weight feels like. Death is a heavy thing. The tolls of both people and devils alike have long since sunk into him with fangs bared. Necessary evils, his colleagues would say: the men who trained him, the men who died beside him. To meet your end protecting this land is an honor, to slaughter devils is an accomplishment. By now, blood and death and slaughter are practically burned into his palms and the back of his eyelids. Grasping the hilt of his sword feels as natural as breathing. He can't remember the last time he dreamt of anything pleasant. 

In the quietness to follow, Aki tries to picture himself in your place. How much have you lost, to make you so distrusting? How strong and how good is your heart, to still have offered him a safe place to land? Sure, if you were dying, bleeding out, the sight filling his lungs with embers, his head enveloped in the scent of blood and petrichor — Even if you needed him, he shouldn't be saving you. Saving you would go against everything. But he would. In much the same way, he wouldn't let you die. And he knows he wouldn't hesitate. 

When it was all said and done, his path at your side would have led in the same direction. Perhaps because it was meant to. Perhaps, if he defies everything, he can keep that path on its course, and he can deserve your efforts to save him. 

Realizing you've opened up a little more than you would have liked to, or maybe discerning that you've been standing there gawking at the puzzled, wide-eyed look on his face for far too long — Abruptly, you stand up straight, righting yourself. You stride over to him, taking quick, certain steps. Aki can't help but tense when you put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Your eyes narrow, your glance traveling over him with quiet contemplation. 

"And if we don't want you to die," You start; you're standing up again, with liveliness finally returning to your tone. A faux liveliness, maybe. "You need more medicine. I'm fresh out, so I'll need to gather more if you're to fully recover. Damn," You study him, your hand coming to your chin. "Bandages, too. I almost forgot. I'll need to substitute them- Leaves? No, I'm sure there's some clothes I don't need somewhere…" 

Aki's brow raises once you start to trail off. "Are you sure I should stay?" 

"Yeah. Of course I am, I already told you." 

Leaving it at that, you head back to the kitchen, taking care of the last few steps needed to clean up. While you're busy, he decides to have a proper look around for the first time since he awoke. 

The cottage is small, but well lived-in. There's a bowl of chopped fruit, and a vase of fresh flowers sitting atop a rickety-looking dining table. Asters: flowers with purple petals, and a bright yellow center. A few candles line the table and the kitchen counter, flickering with light and dripping with wax. The shelves in the living room are filled with dusty books and interesting nick nacks. He recognizes various creatures hand-carved in wood: a bird, a Great Elk, a kelpie. You've carved lots of birds, actually. You have a whole shelf dedicated to them, large and small and mystical alike. 

A book is left sprawled open over the arm of a wooden rocking chair. As if whoever was reading it needed to mark their page in a spur of the moment, and they'd left it there, planning to return to it shortly. 

Aki recognizes the cover; a knight, with armor and a shining sword, holding the blade up to a painted sun. The Holy Knight, the story is called, if Aki remembers correctly. Some tale about a knight rescuing a princess, saving the land from a curse, and marrying her to become the king — awfully traditional, for a fairytale. 

Not that he minds. Books rarely interested him when he was a kid, but his brother loved those sorts of stories. Aki would read them to him, when their parents were away. Have you read this one as many times as he has, he wonders? 

"You're sure I'm not- ehem," Aki clears his throat, turning his attention back towards you. "Overstepping? Feels like I'm intruding on your home." 

Your response is quick, sharp, and immediate. "This isn't my home." 

"Really?" Aki questions innocently. 

You freeze up for a moment, before returning to washing the bowl in your hands, scrubbing the inside with a tattered rag. "I mean- for now, it is. This place was abandoned by the time I got here, I'm only passing through. I'll be leaving once I'm done gathering what I can from the forest. The demons are becoming too much lately." 

Immersed in thought, he can't help but restlessly chew on his bottom lip. He won't press you, it'd be best not to. Although, the current plan he's thought of isn't exactly the smartest of choices, either. 

Damn it all. 

"I understand," Aki hums. He brings a palm to the back of his neck, nervously running his fingers over a mismatch of scars there. "We should leave together, then." 

Immediately, you turn around on your heels, your cape fluttering, and give him your most agitated glare yet. "Why are you so insistent on dying?" 

"I didn't mean 'leave right now,'" Aki corrects, matter-of-fact. "We can head for the kingdom once I'm healed, and once you've taken care of everything you need to do here, however long that might take. I can keep myself busy. You said you've never been, right? I know the way, I can take you." 

You scoff, shifting your weight from heel to heel, "They aren't letting anyone in unless you come with a letter of admission. It's been that way for years now." 

"I grew up there. I know how to get you in," Aki replies. Firelight dances in his eyes when you catch them: blue hues, warm and earnest, sparkling like sapphires. Such riches have always been out of your reach, until now. "I can show you around too, if you'd like. It'll be to repay you. For everything you've done for me." 

"I don't have any interest in going to the kingdom." 

"Why not?" Aki shrugs, tilting his head. His pointed ears give the slightest curious twitch. "It isn't as bad as you might think. If you'd let me talk to you about it, maybe I could end up convincing you." 

"You'd sooner convince me to toss myself to the demons." You half-roll your eyes, leaning against the edge of the counter. You turn to watch the dying rain pelt the dining room window: cascading droplets on colorful stained glass. 

"Either way," You're continuing, "I have plans. There's somewhere else I need to be, somewhere far away from here- Close to the north mountains, that's where my hometown is. The kingdom is in the exact opposite direction, if you recall." 

"That's fine," Aki pivots, after a slight pause. He follows the line of your gaze, trying to discern what you're looking at. Droplets race on the window, before disappearing once they've chased each other too far. "You're still welcome to leave when I do. It'll be safer that way, traveling out of the forest together. As long as you're alright with that, of course. By then, I'm sure I'll be fine enough to head out alone. I want you to be safe. But I don't want you to… feel like you have to listen to me. Or something like that." 

He feels like a damn fool, stumbling over his sentences as if he's got no clue what he's trying to say. Aki's jaw tenses, but thankfully, you don't seem very fazed. 

"Let's just figure it out later," You huff, "Alright?" 

Aki eyes you, up and down. You stand in place, your arms crossed, tapping your foot. Finally, you quit leaning on the counter, standing up straight, and you approach the dining room table. He watches as you reach up, deftly untying your cape and pulling it from your shoulders. You drape it over the back of a wooden dining chair. 

"I should introduce myself, shouldn't I?" Aki starts; you stare at him from the corner of your eye, and you're moving in his direction while he's continuing. "You can call me Aki. I'm glad to be acquainted." 

He has his hand extended for you to shake by the time you're stopping in front of him. Though, instead, you give him a once over, before immediately striding to the nearby fireplace. Aki awkwardly lowers his hand into his lap, and you proceed to grab a log, tossing it into the fire, where it becomes swiftly accepted by the flames. 

Aki clears his throat. "Could I know your name, as well? I'd like to know who I have to thank for saving my life." 

You dust your hands. Without giving him a passing glance, you head towards a door on the room's opposite end. The wood is engraved with an intricate design: twin birds, and blossoming flowers. 

"I'm going to bed," You tell him, and Aki stares at your back and tensed shoulders, somewhat dumbfounded. You turn the doorknob slowly, allowing the door to open with a creak. It's far too dark to make out anything inside, besides the light of the moon, shining onto some shelves from a small set of windows. 

Tone unreadable, you spare him one last look from over your shoulder. "I'll be waking up at sunrise to gather herbs for your medicine. I'll try not to wake you when I do. If you're hungry, I chopped some apples for you earlier. They're on the dining table. I suggest you get some rest, you won't regain your strength without it." 

He still doesn't know your name. He still doesn't have your trust — but that's alright. The kingdom is days away, isn't it? And besides, if anyone followed his trail, he doubts they'd be able to find what they're looking for. This cottage is well-hidden. Nearly too hidden for him to find, actually. As long as he's here with you, treading this line, there's time. Plenty and plenty of time. 

The Gods can watch, as he defies everything his wretched people once prayed for, once sought to destroy, while letting himself get swept under. 

"Goodnight," Aki murmurs, before you can finish closing the bedroom door behind you. "Sleep well." 

The fire crackles. Rain taps against the roof in fading whispers, and Aki watches your door shut with an inferno in his heart. 

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow, Day 1

Gibdo

Linked Universe Time x Reader

(Can be seen as both Romantic and Platonic)

TW: Graphic Descriptions of Gore and Rot, as well as nightmares, and a bit of Whump(?) please do not read if you're highly squeamish, even if it's not long just to be safe. As this deals with dark times as is usual to Majora's Mask, may also be read outside of a Linked Universe context.

*walks on in to Dark Linktober and Linktober both with sleep deprivation, coffee and kind of late, drops this, refuses to elaborate* Kind of self indulgent but I hope whoever finds this enjoys, it's spooky season and I am taking full opportunity to go ham XD

The beast a few feet away of you was foul, with it's thin, leathery flesh barely clinging to it's bone hollow cheeks, the sickly sweet scent of rot and decay mixing with that of old, burnt flesh, barely hidden by once white, now sullied and dirty cloth in a failed attempt at appearing harmless as it slowly decayed, it's sallow, sunken yellow eyes scan the abandoned graveyard and you stay very, very still where you've sank behind the side of the Music Box House, heart like a deer's facing down a Lynel as you heard it's long, unnatural fingers drag across the stone, the click, click, click of it's nails against stone and it's tortured moans in it's everlasting, tormented hunt sending chills down your spine.

It is nowhere near the dawn of a new day and sunlight barely reached Ikana Canyon, and you had no desire to become one of the many ivory and yellowed bones of the dead in this wretched, horrible place of tragedy.

You trade a look with Link from across your hiding place, eyes stopping on his arm before forcing yourself to snap to his sapphire and iron gilded gaze again, he had to get to Pamela's Father, but this run had unexpectedly gone south from you both getting attacked midway to the canyon and him hurting his sword arm attempting to sneak past the Gibdo's. The strangled, bitten off scream that left his throat as one of the beast sank it's rotten, cracks teeth into his flesh hard enough to almost crack bone so very horrific you didn't think twice before shooting it with a flame blessed arrow and dragging him away, teeth bared in defiance, but it's disguise of sickly and wounded falling away with it's pained, furious howl to reveal a Redead had attracted more of them to your location with it's inhuman, obsidian and blood rust coated fury of necromancy cursed beasts, forcing you both to hide as you didn't have anymore fairies and potions from slaying the third of Majora's twisted, reality poisoning generals.

This was meant to be a scouting quest before a reset darn it, how had it gone so wrong so quickly?

(How much more would it take? Which one would lead to the road where your dearest friend, the people of Termina and yourself didn't burn over the unknowable, cruel whims of cursed divinity? How much more must Link bleed, give and slowly kill himself for?-)

The walking corpse groans, it's too close to his location and there are two to your other left that could rush any of you at any second, he's the one with the Ocarina and you refuse to let him try using one of those masks while wounded, you saw how he screeched like someone slowly pulling the flesh from his bones one too many times to tolerate. You twitch just as he does, but you move faster, bow already draw and with three arrows knocked, your arms straining against the taught strings.

You may not have any more flame blessed arrows, but you knew how to make fiery ones that would be just enough for the situation at hand.

Link sends you a steely glare caught between betrayal and understanding as he nods, gritting his teeth as he mouths to you a simple, pleading resquest:

'Do not die.'

"MOVE!" You snarl, as you let your arrows fly, one of them hits the Gibdo near him right in the eye and the fire catches as if it's been doused in oil and it screams writhing and squirming with pain as it tries to shrug it's cloth away. The sound between once human and abominable loud enough you swear you feel something warm dripping from your ears but have no time to check as the other two, handcrafted fire arrows cripple it's leg and one of it's arms that were creeping around your mask wielding friend's hiding spot as he books it as fast as his legs will carry him with the Bunny Hood, you whirl around, shooting the one's right around your corner with one arrow each and prepare to cover his back.

You don't look behind yourself as you hear the house's door slam shut and Tatl's cut off call of your name, instead focusing on drawing the profane beast's attention away from it, knowing they are eager to see your insides decorate the Ikana grounds to join their once living brethren, to attempt to bite down around your ribs and quaff down your lukewarm blood with vesania inked glee and maddened grieving elation as you struggle against the petrifying glare with animal franticness and all the defiance your humanity gave you as one of them holds you down and it HURTSTEARSROTSANDYOUCANNOTMOVE-

"---(Name)!"

You shoot up from your bedroll, dagger in hand, barely scraping the throat of whoever had your shoulders in a firm, but reassuring grip, breathing hard as the brief burst of adrenaline leaves your body as it comes face to face with aquamarine, phosphophylite and cinnabar marks around a beautifully night sky blue gaze with all the intensity of a wolf caring for it's pack. Your grip on the pristine blade you've taken to carrying slackening even as he already moved away with practiced ease, the same way you would when he'd lash out when you wakened him from night terrors to avoid getting your head lopped off, even knowing instinctively you'd never hurt one another.

Time.

Safe, alive, free if highly traumatized Time.

... Then again, you can't judge.

He scans you with one eye, quiet concern and understanding as he slowly moves to tuck some hair behind your ear in a low tone, dimly you note the faint squeeze to your pulse, reassuring you both as you drop your dagger to the side, much preferring to take his calloused hand in yours instead than cold, unfeeling steel, "Nightmare?"

You take a moment, breathing, drinking him in turn, and the fact that you had both left the worst of Termina behind as you do your best to cut down the lingering memories away, a brittle smile comes to your lips as you scan the camp as you squeeze his hand back, "Mhm, same old, sorry. Did I wake anyone up?"

"No, I got to you before you could. You looked troubled and I couldn't have that." he shakes his head, gently he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. "You've no need to apologize."

He'd have done the same, has done the same but your positions were reversed, you have the same nightmares after all.

You smile, his devotion as always cutting through the night terrors than any blade or arrow, a welcome bit of reinforcements that you knew would never fail, you gently lift a hand to caress his cheek, just to reassure yourself that he is real, touching your foreheads together, "Thank you."

He closes his eyes, the soft rumble of his voice like the wind over leaves fully taking your worries away as surely as the tides in his eyes took the love you dared not voice aloud each passing day, "Always."

You both take a moment to stay like that, silent as you steady yourselves, still in disbelief you were both still here, before he gently places a hand atop yours, giving it a light squeeze, "Walk with me? I don't believe any of us will be able to get anymore sleep tonight."

Your smile, mischievous glee dyeing it as you kiss his free cheek, echoing his words back at him, "Always. Must you ask?"

He gives you a flat look, and you can't help but laugh. Gently he pulls you to your feet and, just to be a menace that you and Warriors knew he never ceased to be, rather than let you actually walk with him as he requested, he sweeps you from your feet and into a princess carry, making you have to bite down an outraged shriek and cackle as you ineffectively smack one of his shoulders with hissed, half hearted protests lest you both wake the entire camp. Affronted but amused as you catch the glimpse of a smirk, heart warm as you catch the slight shaking of his chest as he silently laughs too.

(If Wolfie sends you both an unimpressed look, having jerked awake from the sudden movement when you both return to camp, taking leaves and twigs from one another's hair from a 'daring' escape you've made that involved almost knocking you and Time both into a river, well, you'll just make it up to Twilight later in the morning and you're sure Time will help with Epona as well.)

It matters not that the pale moon attempted to remind you of the undead's eyes, and of the many horrors you've faced in that long distant journey that still had the tips of their claws in your souls, when you knew he'd keep you safe. And that you'd do your best to protect him now as you did back then.

[ultralightpoe]

Ouuuu so excited could I get an Aemond imagine based on the summoning by sleep token song specifically the last minute and 35 seconds (it’s the best part lol) if that doesn’t strike your fancy any chase Atlantic song haha…thanks I can’t wait to read it 🥰

The Summoning - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: Would you be mad if I admitted to never hearing this song before? Cause shit......it's a good song...... and I think I'm about to absolutely butcher it for you

Warnings: Smut..... There is definitely some smut in this one. 18+ please

Word Count: 1706

Description: Aemond is no match for the witch he loves

If you want to make a character and song request look HERE

Enjoy!

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

A taste of the divine

You lead him through the woods, one hand dragging him while the other carries a small satchel of the necessities needed for whatever spell you wanted to perform that day. 

The mischievous gleam in your eye was twice as intense as normal, and it set Aemonds blood on fire as he let you lead him far away. You could be planning on killing him and he would let you, so long as you kept looking at him with those eyes. 

His foot snags on a branch and he stutters in steps, you allow him to fall into you, both leaning against a tree allowing him to trap you in. Like a sailor trapped by a siren he lunges for a kiss, which you happily allow. 

He devours you, hands coming up to hold your jaw as you moan lightly before he leans to lick the salty sweat off your neck, groaning to himself when you reach to tear off the eyepatch. 

“Not here-” You gasp, rubbing into him. There is something so intoxicating about your that has Aemond clinging to your every word, allowing him to dissolve into your taste. “Just a few more steps, my prince, into the clearing.”

“Lead the way witchling.” He whispers, stepping off to let you lead him through the dark again.

You've got my body, flesh and bone, yeah

The sky above, the Earth below

He lands on the dirt under him, groaning out as you snag at his leather vest, trying to tear it off. 

Around him is an entire set up of candles, goblets of blood and painted stones encircling where he was laying down with you grinding down into him from where you currently straddled him. 

“Are….Are we sacrificing ourselves tonight?” He teases, biting back a groan as his hands reach to stop your hips. “Will my witch bleed for me?”

“So long as you do it hard.” You gasp out, finally removing his vest. He is too busy staring at the stars above him as you grab the knife and tear it across the front of his shirt to expose his chest to the night air. 

Before he can make a sarcastic comment you move off him to slice his leather riding pants and with a small amount of his help remove them from his body before shoving him back to lay down, untying your own corset as he watches, a possessive look gleaming in his eyes while you strip bare. 

Then you straddle him once more, smirking when he seethes from the touch. “Are you ready?”

“Always.” With his answer you sink down onto him while slicing a small cut down his chest.

Raise me up again

Take me past the edge

I want to see the other side

See the other side

He’s cumming before he even has a chance to catch his breath, eyes searing shut as you grind into him, thighs tightening as he groans out. 

You don’t seem to mind, too busy cutting the symbol needed into his flesh as you ride him, murmuring the chant over and over. Your voice is coming out in pants, the man below you filling you to the brim before you are even ready for it, not that it mattered. You would be doing this to him all night if it was needed. 

His head throws back in bliss as you make the final cut on his chest, blood pouring from the wounds. “FUCK-”

He catches your eye right as you swipe a finger along the blood, dragging it to your lips and sucking it clean. Something flashes in him and he finds himself thrusting up into you, already hard again. 

“No.” You snap, pushing his hips down with your own that has him moaning out. “It’s your turn to do it.”

Before he can process what you mean you are handing him the knife and dipping your fingers in his blood before lifting them up to your own chest and tracing a symbol. He nearly falls apart at the sight when you squeeze around him. 

You've got my body, flesh and bone

The sky above, the Earth below

“Are you….” His mouth is dry as he licks his lips, trying to catch his breath under you. “Are you sure?”

You answer by grinding down and leaning over him until your hands were in the dirt on either side of his head, breast against his chest as you lick some of his blood. This snaps something in him and he flips you both around so you are on the earth and thrusts harshly. 

“You’re a fu- shit- fucking tease.” He moans, wrapping your legs around his hips as his thrusts speed up until you squeeze around him and moan out loudly as you cum. 

He doesn’t waste time, taking the knife and carving it into the flesh of your chest, leaning down to catch a nipple in his mouth as he does so. 

“You own me-” You moan out, hands flying to grasp at his skin. “Body flesh and bone, my prince.”

“Body flesh and bone.” He whispers back before biting down on your breast.

Raise me up again

Take me past the edge

I want to see the other side

His skin heats up instantly as he finishes the symbol, his entire body on fire as he pulses with need. Gasping for air as he lays his forehead on your chest, snapping his hips into yours, desperate to cause friction. 

You must be feeling the same way under him, mewling out as you thrust up in an attempt to make him go faster.  “It hurts.”

It did, a searing addicting kind of pain that made him light up at your every touch. The wind around the both of you seemed to nip at your skin as he shut his eyes in attempt to ease himself. 

He was so close-

Won't you show me what it's like?

Won't you show me what it's like?

You flip yourselves back over before he can finish, not that he is complaining because once he looks at you it was heaven sent. 

You were looking back down at him, eyes black from whatever magic you were possessing as you lifted yourself off of him. “Do you want to feel the power?”

Yes yes yes yes yes. He doesn’t know if he is actually responding or just a moaning mess as you sink down onto him before taking a bit of your blood and swiping it across his mouth. 

The iron taste of it has his cock leaking pre cum, biting down on your thumb before you can pull it away when the spell fully takes him. He can see stars, not the ones in the sky but rather the ones you provide, his entire body tensing up under you. 

Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cut me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

“Goddess ruin me!” He yells as his head throws back, hands snapping to your hips as you bounce on him, a moaning mess yourself. “That’s what you are? Is it not?”

“What’s that?” You pant out, dragging one of his hands to your breast.

“A goddess.” He groans out, biting at his own lip as pleasure overtakes him once more. “FUCK!”

You laugh, closing your eyes as you let yourself fall apart, gripping him like he was the last thing on this earth to cling to. Just as you both finish the heat that had consumed you eases itself and you both breathe out, pulsing with the other. 

“Goddess..” He whispers, staring up at you as he rubs your thigh and pinches your nipple. You groan out, head throwing back as he starts the next round. 

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

I didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad

He takes control once more, flipping you both over and thrusting into you at an unnatural speed that has you screaming out, snatching his hair and pulling. 

“Scream all you fucking want-” He sneers, hand running up to cover your throat and squeeze. “No one can hear you out here goddess.”

Your eyes roll back as he cuts off circulation, coming undone over him once more. 

“That’s it. That’s. Fucking. Right.” He snaps, leaning to bite at your shoulder blade as he works you like his own little toy, your thighs shaking as you continue to cum around him. 

“Mine.” He grunts after he marks your shoulder. “Mine. Mine. MINE.”

The flames around you burn bright, turning red to deep black and back to red as the spell finishes, both of you shaking as you finish one more time. 

I've got a river running right into you

I've got a blood trail, red in the blue

Something you say or something you do

The taste of the divine

He licks you clean between your thighs, moaning at the taste as you still try to come down from your orgasm. Then he carries you to the river not far off and holds you as he sinks into the water, taking you once more right there before washing you clean and kissing along your marks, both your chests clear of any marks from the knife. 

“Witchling.” He bites out as he finishes in you once more, leaning to bite your lip while you moan out. “Goddess.”

You've got my body, flesh and bone

The sky above, the Earth below

Nothing to say and nowhere to go

A taste of the divine

He carries you back to the small clearing of the spell, laying with you until he falls asleep holding you. 

When he awakes there is nothing. No sight of you, no sight of any of the essentials from last night. His hand flies to his chest to find it clean, pure, nothing there. 

A tense desperation fills him, pumping under his skin as he closes his eyes. “Witchling.”

(sorry if that was hella cringey)

[dinogoofy]

HEELLOOO

Below is a snippet of a fic I've been working on on-and-off the past few months, but this snipp of it was just too good not to share. For reference, this fic is a friends to lovers to enemies fic focused around Shang Tsung back when he first betrays eathrealm and Raiden.

TW Tho!!! This is very bloody, sad, and gory. Angst/no comfort fam. Reader is fem.

Please read it and tell me what you think!!

His blood ran cold.

“What did you say?”

“We-” The soldier gulped, terrified out of his wits. He deserved to be, Shang Tsung thought.

“The sorceress is dead, My lord. We took care of her.” The other speaks up. He holds out your bloodstained amulet, the one he gave you years ago. The once you wore into battle even when you were fighting each other.

Shang Tsung feels his stone cold heart split in the most painful, guttural, bloody way. His face goes pale. He wants to throw up, but instead his hand forms a fist, and he starts to shake out of anger. The soldiers in front of him start to shrink away from pure, raw, fear.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to call them fools. To ask them what the FUCK they were thinking. Yell at them and slaughter them on the spot for going against his fucking rules. They weren’t supposed to kill you. They weren’t. They weren’t. They shouldn’t have killed you. They shouldn’t have TOUCHED you. How the fuck did they manage to kill you, his only equal in witts and strength. How-

Shang Tsung is overcome with anguish, but instead of falling to his knees, or sobbing, he raises a hand to the soldiers. He takes the amulet, and then rips their soul out of their bodies in the most painful way he knew how. He watches their bodies shred under the magic. He revels in their cries of pain as they slowly die.

It was his fault.

He let you die.

He had forgotten that he had removed your magic, temporarily, to keep you from defying him further. Too keep you away from meddling in his war.

And like the fool he was, he left you on a battlefield without any way to defend yourself.

Shang Tsung let the bodies become a horrific slush of meat and bones before him. 

He let you die.

"You've been learning the forbidden scrolls." You had said, frozen in disbelief as it all clicked together. The secrecy, the avoidance. His new lies and arrogance. Your eyes searched his own, and he saw them wrench in agony when he realized he was caught. Shang Tsung stayed silent for a moment, moving to sit you down, but you held onto his arms, refusing.

"It wouldn't have been written if it shouldn't have been learned." He replied to you, almost deperate to make you understand, but not willing to let it show through his voice. You shook your head, tears pin pricking at your waterline. You used his arms again to steady yourself, and took a step back. He held back the urge to follow your touch as you stepped away from him.

"You're wrong. They're dangerous. They hurt people. Fuck! Shang Tsung what are you thinking? They will hurt you!" He had scowled at you then, shaking his head. He was disappointed in your rule-abiding nature. Always one to stick to the morals set for the two of you by gods who never knew desperation a day in their life.

"What does it matter? We're about to enter a killing contest. Our spells hurt people anyway. My priority is keeping myself alive." He spoke sternly. "Yours should be too. I could teach you-"

"No." His scowl grew when you interrupted him. He loved you with everything in him, but he believed you to be a fool to be so closed minded to the magic he was studying. You had so much potential, squandered by morals you were convinced to follow.

"We need to be self-sufficient from these Gods, love. Do you think they'd try to save us from the battlefield?" He said, fire burning in his chest. "We are chosen to be death fodder for the generations ahead of us, so why not try to be stronger than the gods themselves-" He cut himself off. He's said too much.

"... what?" You asked, appaled, terrified. He never wanted to see fear in your eyes. He shaked his head, and stepped closer to hold you close, pressing his forehead to your own.

"Power is everything. Power will save us. Save you, if you want it to. I will do anything to obtain that kind of power." You went silent, and he can tell you were thinking on his words intently.

"Even lose me?" You had asked after a long pause. Shang Tsung's breath caught in his through, appaled you would even think of such a thing.

"No. No love. I'd never lose you."

He had always been a liar. Even when he truly meant the words he spoke.

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Praesidium Pt II: Talionis

A/N: Sooo...Merry Crisis one and all. Secret Santas are supposed to be fun and tailored for the recipient, yeah? Here’s hoping they enjoy given how the first thing they said to me after reading part one was, “Where’s the rest of it?” Mafia AU continuation where the endgame changes slightly. Thanks again to @dymphnasprose for the lovely banner (the raging dumpster fire that is tumblr won’t let me load the gorgeous gif banner you made for me D:<!!!)and for keeping my ass on track and on time with this shit. You know how I feel about deadlines. 

TW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, implied drugging, sensory deprivation, gunplay, spitroasting, bondage, rope, fuck or die, forced cuckholding, coercion.

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The cabinet meeting adjourned per usual custom; the ministers in their bland, off the rack suits filed out of the chambers, their slow, humming chatter fading with every step taken out onto the polished marble. Shinsou straightened his tie and cast a wary eye to his phone, the vibrations buzzing through the laminated table like a hornet. Your number burned through the screen in starlight pixels-- it wasn’t like you to call him during a recess. Typically, you waited for him to call knowing just how arduous the arguments between old men could become when given a public forum. 

“Yes, love?” 

The familiar keening of your whimpering through his smartphone in reply sent a chill through him so cold it could only be described as hiemal. Almost frantically, your voice hitched and another breathy moan caught in your throat. Mangled pleas for release, for an end to the madness building in your core were punctuated by those same haggard cries. Shinsou froze at his desk in the auditorium, fixated on the harsh panting he knew was accompanied by the heaving of supple breasts and the telltale flush of your imminent end. He ached against his navy blue Dior suit pants, transfixed by the haunting song of tortuous pleasure you sang in his ear. Throat dry, Shinsou dropped his voice and tried again. “Kitten, I’ll be home shortly if you can keep edging for that long.”

“I’m sure you’ll find she’s about as far from home as she can get. Doubt the little princess can last much longer.” 

Shinsou held his breath and the dread found a new way to boil the acid in his stomach. Through gritted teeth, he growled under his breath as your wailing continued to soundtrack a less than touching moment between surrogate father and son. He could hear the smug smirk as the formidable Boss Aizawa continued to taunt you closer to the edge. 

"If you've hurt her--"

"Wouldn't dream of it. You're coming home, and not that over-indulgent highrise you've made your love nest in. Time is of the essence, Hitoshi." An unmistakable scream, your scream left him paralyzed as the line went dead. Though his mind raced, Shinsou had to will his feet to carry him through the maze of bureaucrats and journalists hindering him from his car. He knew the way to the compound without thinking. Muscle-memory had him weaving through city traffic to the outskirts of town, the memory of your scream a silent echo in his ears. 

He knew Boss Aizawa was capable of anything, and that knowledge had his blood run colder the closer he drove to his family's homestead. Yamada and his perpetual grin was nowhere to be found when Shinsou pulled in, a surprise for the political upstart. An empty house for an organization as large as his was never a good sign. He ran through the maze of hallways, each door the same heavy ebony and gold lacquer, until he found the one room he never dared enter even as a young orphan running the streets. The silence of the compound left his ragged breathing suspended in a palpable dread. Hitoshi drew up his courage, caught his breath, and rapped his trembling knuckles against the door. 

"Ah, the prodigal son." Boss Aizawa smirked and waved him in with an air of affability not unfamiliar to the young politician. Aizawa rested a hand along your hairline, gently running his fingers through your sweat-matted hair. Curled into his lap with heavy black cord caging your limbs in familiar lovers' knots and a bolt of black silk covering your eyes, you rested soundlessly as if unaware of the monster whose slacks you rested against. Shinsou slid into the room and closed the door behind him, the lump in his throat growing the longer his violet eyes traced the track of his surrogate father's fingers. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Let her go. She has nothing to do with this." 

Aizawa chuckled darkly, running his wandering hand to trace the gentle slope of your back and waist. "You're right," he mused, rubbing the reddened globe of your ass. "Her involvement is inconsequential. Nothing more than a pretty, little obstacle, really." Shinsou was fixated on the tender way Boss Aizawa danced his fingertips along your skin and choked back bile and rage as the mafia head continued to calmly voice his proposal. His onyx eyes darkened and a cruel glare frosted over his rugged features. "You've grown overly comfortable with the freedoms I've so graciously allowed you to indulge in these past months, Hitoshi." 

Your brow furrowed slightly under the harsh grip on your thighs prying them apart to reveal the glistening secret between them. Shinsou chewed on his tongue, watching his mentor pull your lower lips apart with calloused fingertips. As much as he wanted to rip Aizawa's hands off of you, as hard as he tried to look away he knew it was a far better alternative than seeing your gray matter and bone splattered on the drywall behind him. 

"Enough. Let her go."

"If only it were so simple, Hitoshi." Aizawa curled your hair around his fingers and gave a rough pull, arching your neck painfully back as your mouth flew open in a choked cry. "What I don't think you understand is this…" His smug grin burned against your skin, his thick fingers slid inside your slick walls stretching you through your waking moments while your husband watched on, helpless to intervene. "...Everything you own is mine. Everything you've built and become is because of me-- I own you, Hitoshi." Each syllable dripping with thinly veiled irritation punctuated another curl of those blood-stained fingers up into your dripping maw. Still oversensitive from earlier abuses, you wailed as Aizawa forced you to spread yourself open onto his lap for your husband to observe in silent disgust. 

"It's simple, Hitoshi: you come back into the fold, and I'll let her go." Shinsou clenched his jaw and watched the gaping maw of your pussy accommodate his mentor's thick digits. Aizawa's free hand snaked its way around your pretty throat and gave an experimental squeeze, your gasping stirring his cock to life under your squirming core. "Refuse and she breathes her last." Stone-faced as ever, Shinsou watched impassively, his rage building in his chest like a war chant pounding a warning across the distance. The tighter Aizawa squeezed the angrier Shinsou became, all too happy to ignore the faint zip and sudden strangled moan pulled from your wanton lips as a foreign cock sheathed itself inside a stranglehold all your own. "Looks like you need more convincing," the dark-haired boss grunted. He rutted into your writhing body, pulling careless cries of frantic pleasure with a casual smirk.

Shinsou stepped closer, reaching out to put a stop to the madness, only to be stopped by the clicking of a hammer cocking from a discreet sidearm. He dropped his arm to his side and looked on at the familiar quiver in your thighs signaling the beginning of your many ends. 

"'Toshi, please," you whimpered, desperate to reach that peak. On closer inspection, he could see the dark outline of noise cancelling earbuds resting in the shells of your ears, no doubt playing something soothing and wordless to supplement the drugs dulling your senses. Just when he thought to silently thank his mentor for the small mercy Aizawa's thrusting intensified. The high, keening scream Shinsou took pride in coaxing was a stiletto to the heart when you sang it for another man under such duress. Your cream coated Aizawa's cock, adding another layer of traitorous lube to the act. As the boss ran his aquiline nose along the column of your neck, Shinsou traced the curve of your parted lips with his ultraviolet gaze. 

"I'm waiting, Hitoshi." Aizawa held the barrel to your temple and groaned at the full-body shiver that tore through your bound frame on his throbbing length. His finger rested on the trigger, each thrust bringing the reality of potentially losing you to a stray bullet in the midst of his mentor's passion sinking to the forefront of Shinsou's mind. Frozen, the politician swallowed hard and hung his head in defeat. It was one thing to insult him by kidnapping and fucking his wife, but dangling the prospect of losing you was an injury he doubt he could fully recover from. "Be a shame to ruin something so beautiful, but if this is how you demand to be taught, who am I to argue?" 

Another moan nearly sent both men over the edge, Aizawa's finger squeezing the trigger reflexively. Fear was a beast clawing through Shinsou's chest, moving through him to grab the gun and pant out in desperation. 

"Alright! I'll do it. Just let her go." 

Aizawa released his hold on the firearm and allowed it to slide barrel first into Shinsou's shaking hands. With both hands free to manipulate your body to his whims, Aizawa redoubled his efforts. For the first time since childhood, Shinsou saw true joy light his mentor's hardened features. He might have felt a twinge of relief if he wasn't balls deep inside his ignorant wife's dripping cunt. 

"Was that so hard? I'd say let's shake on it like men, but my hands are a little full at the moment." Aizawa shifted your weight forward, mouth hungry and open, waiting to be filled as saliva tracked down the corners of your lips. Shinsou hesitated, eyes flickering between your parted lips and Aizawa's empty black eyes. "Guess sharing your whore should suffice." 

As if it was all the permission needed, Shinsou dropped his designer trousers and buried himself to the hilt in your throat. He tossed the handgun aside and gripped your hair as he lost himself in the moist contractions as you gargled another aria of wanton moans. With every stroke Aizawa took to bruise into your twitching cervix Shinsou backed off to allow you the half-beat to breathe before abusing your gag reflex. Halfway through you began to realize something was amiss as you clawed against your husband's bare thighs. Shinsou yanked roughly on your hair and continued to bite back his disgust with the situation. He was supposed to be better than this; he swore he was done with Aizawa and his gang, that he was done being a thug at his mentor's beck and call. Your grip left angry trails of heartbreak along Shinsou's pale legs as your body betrayed you. 

The pace was brutal-- pounded rhythmlessly from behind, you felt pressure let off as thick, hot ropes painted along your back in viscous pearl. Head thrown back, Shinsou wasn't too far behind, his grip soon wrapping around your throat. With the fight fucked out of you long before reason sunk in, strength left your limbs leaving you limp between the two thugs. Growling out his release into your belly, Shinsou's grip softened and he lovingly rubbed soothing circles on your cheek with his thumb. Lost in the dark sensation of freefall, you succumbed to unconsciousness. 

Warm light and the smell of dark roast roused you from sleep. Tongue thick and body numbed from your rest, you stretched futilely back into your pillows. Shinsou sauntered in, unhurried as ever, with a steaming mug to greet you with an apologetic peck. 

"What's the occasion?" Your husband darted his gaze away with uncharacteristic sheepishness. "It's not like you to not send your assistant to fetch my coffee." 

"I wanted a more personal touch this morning, kitten."  

You hummed gratefully into the brew, soaking in its warmth and Shinsou's company with a smile. Your body ached curiously in muscle groups you forgot you had, sparking flashes of remembrance as he began packing an overnight bag for the two of you. "'Toshi…" you began. "I had the weirdest dream last night…" Your husband froze over his collared shirts and cufflinks as you mused over the morning paper. As he packed your counterfeit passports and offshore account information carefully between dinner jackets and evening gowns, you sighed in contented ignorance. Perhaps it was better you didn't find out how significantly the cost of living had increased overnight. 

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern

[kathrynalicemc]

Dafne Arcano Short Story

Footfalls echo off the stone and dirt cavern walls as Dafne made her way through the Viking burial mound. As she traveled through the dark passage she ran her hands over the long forgotten cracked stone coffins, disturbing the layer of dust and dirt upon them. Dafne knew the catacombs well, having explored them countless times over the years. She never cared to hang out with the other children. Instead she sought solace with the dead. They were quiet, unlike the living, and she was intrigued by the ancient history they held.

Dafne also wasn’t bothered by the dark. Ever since she could remember she never had as much of a problem as her sisters with seeing in darkness. It was second nature to her. Passing one coffin, she quietly muttered to herself as she read the engraved inscriptions in the stonework.

“Vargr Arcano”

The date on that one was too worn to read which excited Dafne. She wondered at what his life was like.

“Sigrid Arcano. 1850-1902”

“Nikolas Arcano. 1847-1921”

“Khione Arcano. 1877-1889” This coffin was smaller than the rest. About the perfect size for Dafne.

At last she came to her favorite one. The stone coffin itself was cracked apart with pieces missing. From within the gaps between the stone slabs grew gnarled and twisting roots of a tree, growing upwards and then sideways when it touched the ceiling. No leaves grew upon this tree however. The headstone was cracked but Dafne was still able to just make out the words.

“Unni Arcano. 1875-1931”

She loved to sit at the base of the coffin under the dark twisting branches of the tree. It was peaceful and she let her mind wander to the past. What secrets do these bones hold? What were their lives like? Every skeleton here once felt the cold wind on their skin and the warmth of the sun. Eventually she too would end up here, in a coffin not too far from where she currently sat.

Dafne was suddenly shook from her thoughts as she noticed the passageway began to glow with flickering torchlight. It was growing brighter and brighter. Somebody was coming. She quickly got to her feet and took a few steps backwards in the opposite direction.

Coming around the corner and emerging from the darkness appeared a boy and then, a second later, a girl carrying a torch. It was Rond and Sigur. They were particularly nasty children around the same age as Dafne who often took to harassing her about her macabre interests. They must have followed her into the burial mound.

“Come to talk to your dead family again then?” Teased Rond with a laugh. “Why don’t you just sleep in a coffin if you love it here so much. You will end up in here at the end anyway. It would save so much time in your worthless life.”

“I didn’t expect you two to be brave enough to come in here. I’ve heard it’s haunted.”

Sigur’s eyes darted around nervously. “R-really?”

“Oh don’t be a chicken Sigur! She’s such a liar.” Rond complained as he elbowed her in the ribs.

Suddenly something caught his attention and he walked over to the cracked coffin. Through a small crevasse he saw the glint of torch light reflecting off of metal. Reaching his hand in, he fished around for a second before withdrawing it and pulling out a sword.

“Hah! Sigur look at this!” He boasted as he swished the sword around in the air, albeit rather clumsily.

“Will you put that thing down? You are going to kill somebody with that thing!” Sigur whined as she got out of the way.

He ignored her plea and instead replied “Your family is hardcore, Arcano. I wonder what happened to you?”

“Drop it, now. That belongs to my ancestors. You have no right to wield it!” Dafne fired back, now stepping towards the boy in rage.

“Hmm...nah. I think I’ll hold on to this. Why should it lay down here for eternity? Besides, you are too weak to wield it yourself. How does it feel being the disgrace of the family?”

In a flash, Dafne yells and lunges for the sword but Rond is quicker. Instinct kicks in and in a reflex he swings the sword. Dafne sees a flash of light against steel and then feels the sharp pain as it cuts down across her eye and cheek. Hot liquid pours down her face and tears begin to sting her eyes. She collapses on the ground and clutches her face, tears and blood beginning to fall and mix with the dirt beneath her.

“Rond, no! Look what you've done! We will get in so much trouble for this! Let’s go!” Sigur was starting to panic.

Rond just stood there, bloody sword in hand, staring down at Dafne with a mixture of horror and satisfaction on his face.

“See. What did I tell you? You’re nothing but a weakling. Your ancestors are looking down upon you in shame. I certainly would hate to be related to you. Pathetic.”

Dafne slowly pulled her bloodstained hand away from her face and angled her head upwards to meet his gaze, her face now calm but eyes burning with intensity. A cold breeze rushed up the passageway, causing the torch to flicker for a moment. With a loud crash, a coffin across the way flew open, the large stone lid impacting the dirt with a thud.

Sigur immediately ran away screaming, accidentally dropping and extinguishing her torch in the process. Rond held his ground, taking deep shaky breaths and watched in horror as two skeleton hands curled around the lip of the coffin and pulled itself upright before then getting to its feet and stepping out. The darkness was pierced by a faint cyan glow emanating from the bones of the skeleton and also of both of Dafnes eyes and a flicker of magic within her palm. She had gotten to her feet once again, her fiery gaze fixed on Rond.

The skeleton stepped up to the boy who then let out a panicked scream and jabbed with the sword, wedging it between the ribs. Having a sword sticking through its chest didn’t seem to have any effect on the skeleton however. Looking down, it grabbed the boys shoulders and tossed him across the room. Rond hit the wall and then crumpled into the dirt. The skeleton then drew the sword from his ribcage, grabbed the boy by his coat, lifted him up and pinned him against the wall, the blade of the sword an inch from his throat.

Approaching from over the shoulder of the skeleton, Dafne screamed out in anger. “If I EVER see you anywhere NEAR my family, living or dead, I will not show mercy. Have you got that? NOW LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK!”

With a terrified nod from Rond, the skeleton withdrew the blade and his grasp upon the boy and he ran as fast as he could and disappeared into the darkness, the echo of his footfalls growing faint. With a deep inhale, the anger in Dafne faded and the skeleton crumpled into a pile, the bones and sword clattering to the ground. A sob escaped her mouth and she slid to the ground with her back pressed up against the wall. Curling up under the tree she brought her knees up to her chest, her small body shaking as she cried. She was alone again in the dark, exactly how she likes it, but this time she wished she wasn’t. This time she really did feel lonely.

Enjoy the bonus art that is a companion to this story! The drawing is MONTHS OLD and UGLY. I never got around to posting it but I finally wrote the story about how Dafne got her scar and discovered her powers.